


White Crows

by EidolonLathi



Category: Mugen no Juunin | Blade of the Immortal
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EidolonLathi/pseuds/EidolonLathi
Summary: Just because they find themselves no longer stuck in a cell doesn’t mean either of them has become any less trapped. Shira adjusts to an arm that isn’t his while Renzo tries not to get obliterated by memories of the past.
Relationships: Kawakami Renzo/Shira
Kudos: 7





	1. A Flame, Consuming

The fire cracked, spreading a brightness that wasn’t needed in the sunlit room. 

“Damn it, that actually tastes decent for once. I didn’t know you could cook this good.” Despite the abrasive nature of his words Shira had practically sounded jovial. 

Renzo shrugged his shoulders and lowered his gaze, his usual reaction when he didn’t know what to answer. And Shira usually never pressured him to talk more than he actually had to say so it had become the sort of reaction Renzo had mentally put onto the pile labelled ‘safe behaviour options’.

“Screw decent, it’s good!”

It was kind of odd coming to the realization, but it reached Renzo with a sudden clarity that it felt the most painful to be around Shira when he behaved kindly. Still keeping his eyes downcast Renzo got another bite ready. “It’s dog. I hope that’s ok.”

“Dog’s fine.” Shira still sounded good-natured, eating the bite Renzo had gotten ready for him. His new arm had gone numb today, unable to perform any kind of movement that was too complicated. It would still do that from time to time, reducing its functionality though it would have been fine only one day earlier. Though the intervals it would malfunction had started to become less in number. 

Next to them the fire on the stove was still burning, making a softly crackling sound while it was devouring the twigs keeping it alive and aflame. On this sunny autumn day neither its light nor the heat it was spreading were needed for anything else than cooking. 

Down in the cell there had been no sunlight. And there had been no meat to eat either. 

Renzo had found the dog this morning. It had been a rather small animal, looking too healthy and pudgy to be a stray. 

Killing it had been an entirely spontaneous idea. It had walked up to Renzo on its own volition, wagging its tail in a silent demand to be petted. I might not have looked like a stray, but it had worn no collar either. Maybe it had wandered off on accident, following some promising scent while telling itself it only would be a quick inspection looking for the source of it and then had planned returning back to its home right away? 

There had no one been around in that twisted corridor of backstreets as far as Renzo had been able to see and there had been no sound of voices or approaching footsteps either. It had only been him and the dog. No one seemed to have missed the animal. And there had been a stone lying on the ground right next to them, small enough to get picked up without raising any suspicions towards the animal but solid enough to answer the question what there would be to eat for dinner next. 

“Renzo?”

Killing the animal with a stone had been kind of messy though. Maybe he just should keep the cooking knife on him when leaving the house, just in case he came across another opportunity of the same nature again.

“Renzo?”

Twitching together in horror Renzo snapped his head around, realising he had spaced out without having planned to. 

When his gaze met Shira’s he wasn’t confronted with an annoyed gaze though. Instead the stare he was giving Renzo looked almost contemplative. “Did hunting make you this tired?”

Shaking his head Renzo got another bite for Shira ready. “Not tired, no. I… I was just thinking. About the dog today though, yes.”

Shira kept chewing silently, a curious gleam flaring up behind his eyes.

Renzo concluded that meant he could continue talking without coming across as annoying. “About today’s dog, well. I only had a stone with me. That was messy. I don’t think stones are that useful for it”, Renzo explained, making himself stop before saying anything more. Continuing to talk he had started to feel like he had been babbling nothing but nonsense after all.

But the interested gleam behind Shira’s eyes continued to flicker. “I imagine it would be. A stone!” He trailed off, letting hear that silent laughter that had more to do with getting lost in his own thoughts than displaying malice. When he continued talking the look in his eyes had become distant. As if he was looking at something beyond the walls of their place, maybe even at something beyond the horizon. “Respect you managed to solve things having a stone only, but that won’t do in the future. Why don’t you use the kitchen knife for that instead?”

Renzo froze, feeling like his mind was becoming numb. The next moment he felt his face set into motion on its own volition, feeling his features setting into a smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“It certainly will be easier using a stone.” Shira sighed, his sight turning into focus again. “I used to take my sword for this. When I still had it.”

“The one with the saw?”

“Yeah, the one with the saw at the flat of the blade Well, where the flat of the blade used to be.” The ghost of his earlier smile returned on Shira’s face. “You still remember from when I told you.”

Hearing this Renzo only nodded. He was beginning to feel at a serious loss for words again. That was the terrible aspect when Shira behaved nicely, it came from a genuine place. And in most cases Renzo couldn’t see the origin of this place, sometimes not even guess it. Today? Today the friendly weather might have had an effect. Or that Renzo had managed to cook something to Shira’s liking. Whatever the cause might be, it was best to assume Shira’s good mood wouldn’t last and soon get replaced by something sombre again. 

For a while they stayed silent, Renzo getting Shira’s food ready and Shira just eating. The plate was almost empty when Shira started talking again: “You know that’s exactly what I like about you, Renzo. When I’m telling you something, you’re actually listening. I’m telling you dog is better than rat and the next time you go to hunt something, you actually make the effort to get a dog instead of trying to tell me why rat isn’t that disgusting after all.”

Renzo felt his face getting hot. “I’m… I’m just trying.”

The light gleaming behind Shira’s eyes turned into something unhinged, the kind of expression that always made it seem as if his left eye could still see as well. The next moment a grin showed up on his face. “Renzo? You do realize that most people aren’t making an effort at all but are only trying to make it seem as if they do?”

That… Renzo wasn’t sure what Shira had wanted to tell him with that. Not really. He tilted his head, giving Shira a questioning glance. 

The grin stayed on Shira’s face, turning into something bitter. “Most people only pretend to care. So they can get what they want.”

“They do?”

“Yes. That’s why it’s easy to notice you’re different.”

“Oh.” Having no good answer for this Renzo got another bite ready. 

Shira silently watched what he was doing. The next moment he slightly raised his arm. His left one, his new one. “The feeling is finally getting back into it but it’s still not working the way it’s supposed to.”

Renzo hesitated. “Isn’t that normal? I mean… doesn’t it always need some time until attached limbs start working properly? It was like this back in the cell too.” It had been. Regardless if the limb in question had been a leg or an arm. 

Hearing this Shira paused. Then he started laughing, impulsive and carefree. “It’s always been like that when they kept chopping me up, yes!” He made an effort to calm down again, continuing to talk with regained composure: “It’s normal they get working this slowly but it’s annoying as fuck anyway. I can move the arm but with the hand I still can’t even do as much as grasp and hold anything.”

Renzo made an agreeing noise, searching for words: “Dou you think getting control over your new hand would get faster if you started training to use it? I don’t know, trying to pick up things more often or something?”

Hearing this Shira’s face turned serious. “That’s… well, I guess trying can’t hurt.”

“It’s just an idea”, Renzo mumbled, lowering his eyes

“But it’s a good idea.” Shira let hear another laugh, sudden and shrill. “That’s what I mean Renzo! You’re able to use that head of yours well if you just try.”

That earlier numbness descended over Renzo’s mind again, making it hard to think. Automatically he finished his task to get the rest of Shira’s food ready for him. 

He couldn’t say how much time had passed until the plate was empty. It felt very long and very short at the same time. And it didn’t come as a surprise when Shira scooted closer next to Renzo once they were done, throwing his arm over Renzo’s shoulder. His real arm, the right one, the one that ended in bare bones. “Make sure to eat your share. It would be a pity letting this go to waste.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t eaten today yet, haven’t you? Make sure to eat something as long as it’s still warm.”

“Alright.”

Letting his arm stay over Renzo’s shoulder Shira leaned back, just enough so he could look Renzo in the eyes. “Renzo?”

“Yes?”

“I might be using Manji’s arm but you’re still the one replacing it. You will always be the one replacing it.”

Renzo felt his body tensing up. Funnily he couldn’t say if this was because he felt the urge to walk away or if he did it in the hope the gesture would cause for Shira to remain by his side. Maybe it was both, the answer depending on how much longer Shira’s good mood decided to stay.

Next to them the fire was still burning, wasting its light in a place that didn’t need any of it.


	2. Constants are Changing

Being in the outside again was better than being stuck in the prison. Shira had to tell himself that, reminding himself that his situation had improved. It had, even though he was still not free by any means. Not with his old sword no longer by his side (he needed to think of a way to somehow get a new one. He needed to.), not with being stuck in this city, having no means to leave it. Not with… oh, fuck it, nothing had improved. 

The fire on the hearth cracked, casting long shadows into the night. It wouldn’t take too long until it would lose its power and go out. Winter was arriving, a newly arriving cold crawling into every corner the fire couldn’t reach. 

His gaze got stuck at the new arm replacing his left one. Manji’s arm. It kind of made him sick having to rely on that thing, knowing about its origins. He had tried to gain some sort of satisfaction out of the fact that having this arm meant Manji was lacking it. Was experiencing for once what it felt like to get a limb chopped off with it staying lost, the way those things naturally went: With the limb staying lost, no means to attach it back. But this line of thinking felt artificial and hollow, the realization reaching his mind that all rationalisations wouldn’t change the fact he wasn’t feeling the emotion in his heart. 

Shira was sort of sick of the feeling that he needed to be thankful over mere scraps. Was supposed to be thankful that he was no longer stuck in a prison cell, no longer having to wonder when the next time would be some limb got cut off and replaced, but instead found himself back in the city that at least gave some sort of pretence it was safer to reside in. Sick of having to be thankful he was able to use an arm that wasn’t his. Thankful his other, still fractioned arm had found a replacement in Renzo. 

His gaze snapped up, getting stuck at Renzo who was sitting at the other side of the room, part of Shira’s mind almost hoping the kid would give him something to get upset about. Something his directionless irritation could sink its teeth into, giving it a concrete form. 

But Renzo was only sitting silently in his corner, holding that odd cat mask in his hand, giving it his undivided attention. It wasn’t hard to guess what went through his mind when he was getting lost in thoughts with the mask like that. Shira knew that the mask was the last solid thing left Renzo had from his father. 

Out of a sudden Shira got jealous. Of Araya. That fucker was dead and had his peace while Shira was still forced to deal with whatever annoyance life threw into his way. He wanted to die so badly. If he just could close his eyes and be done with it all, done with his lost arms, done with thinking how to get hold of some new sword, any sword so he could go back to what he knew best: Killing people for money (once again). Done with how odd it felt to have only one eye left to see (sometimes it felt like his body was lagging behind in a strange way with what his remaining eye was seeing, it was just so weird). Done with the headaches that increased in number. Done with being forced to rely on this sickeningly compliant kid. If at least Renzo would have given him more reasons to feel seriously annoyed about him from time to time. So that it felt justified that… So that if felt justified. And so that it wouldn’t feel like something dreadful was looming right behind the corner, any moment ready to announce itself as yet another nasty surprise.

Things should have ended on that cliff. Shira hadn’t expected surviving the fall. At all. That’s why he had given that spikey haired asshole the idea to cut his hand off to begin with: If he had been supposed to die in that moment anyway he had wanted to make it clear he wasn’t asking for forgiveness for anything. More, wanted to make it clear nothing he had done to required forgiveness to begin with. Not in Shira’s eyes and for him that was the only perspective that mattered. 

And he still saw no need to ask for forgiveness for anything, hadn’t felt the urge in years. The fact he had lost the other hand hadn’t changed that. The mere thought was absurd. 

Yes, part of him still wanted to die so badly but at the same time he couldn’t find it in him to just give up and surrender by committing the final act himself. For that he was too stubborn. No, if this world wanted so badly for him to go away than it could make the effort itself. Now and before, stubbornness, spite and an odd sense of pride were the reasons Shira had never given in, no matter how clearly the abyss had called to him at times. 

The fire cracked, loudly, the energy it had left letting it act up one last time before it would go out completely. The minutes went by, dark and slow, like stones getting liquefied into a slow and cold mass. Gradually the fire went out, slowly disappeared until nothing but the darkness of this night was left, and Shira was envying it for this. 

The warmth had also disappeared with the fire. For a moment he considered just starting a new one but then decided against it. Instead he ordered Renzo to come over. Partially because Shira still didn’t know what to do with his directionless irritation that had started to feel practically painful by now, partially because it felt like it was a way to hold the dreadful surprise at bay that seemed to develop a clearer shape with ever incoming day (Shira wanted to be dead but he was so afraid of dying).

The room had gone completely dark by now, with nothing but the occasional fog of light reaching a crack in the window, producing looming shadows without giving any real light, withholding any real opportunity to see. But then, there wasn’t really a reason to keep the darkness of the night at bay; sometimes it felt better trying to adapt to it. He didn’t need any light to sense Renzo’s resignation. It would have replaced most of the reluctance by now. 

It was odd, but once the fire was gone there never seemed to be anything left as either sharp coldness or uncomfortable hotness. A state only extremes had the strength to exist, with nothing in between proving strong enough against this darkness. 

The cold stayed late into the next day, leaving the impression it had looming shadows attached to it, their shapes too vague to define or clearly see even now the light of day was strong enough to reach everything. It was the kind of cold neither fire, nor daylight, nor anything else would manage to lessen, its structure too solid and harsh. Just as the entire world had become cold and solid. If things continued to be this way, Shira would have no chance to die during some battle. He would freeze to death before he had even the chance to do something else, before he would find a solution against the frost. (He missed his old sword. Its weight, the way it had lain in his hand. He could use his bare bone to kill people now, but it just wasn’t the same. The bone was more suitable to defend himself if someone came too close, less suited to keep attacking with it. And Shira had gotten used to deal with any danger long before it would get the opportunity to cause him harm. The feeling of being stuck in a place all unfitting to how he preferred functioning just wouldn’t lessen.)

When Mister Mikage arrived the cold started leaving, in the very moment Shira realized the sword Mikage was holding towards him was meant to be taken and kept. Reading the letter containing the details about those suspicious worms supposed to be responsible for his newly found healing ability (immortality? For real now? The concept still sounded unlikely) felt sort of exhausting. And yet the cold was leaving, even though he still found himself left with only one eye functioning, despite finding constant reminders that he would stay splintered one way or another. A lingering headache started growing stronger but Shira almost didn’t notice. He had found a purpose again, all those inconveniences like headaches and lost eyes he could ignore as long as he had a purpose. 

“And they really want you to go after Manji… and Rin?”, Renzo asked, voice carrying a tentative edge that was hard to place but impossible to miss. 

“That’s what Mister Mikage just said”, Shira confirmed, not really paying attention to Renzo but continuing to read the letter. He hadn’t really noticed when Renzo had left some time earlier, but he had noticed him coming back. 

“It’s really happening now…”

Picking up the conflicted tone in Renzo’s voice Shira looked up from the letter, picking up something was amiss. Renzo was still lingering at the other side of the room, the look in his eyes vacant. Sure. Oh, yes, sure. He too had a good reason wanting to see Manji suffer. He wanted to see the murderer of his father dealt with. Wasn’t that it? It wasn’t like Shira had forgotten about that fact. It was just that with the world having grown so cold lately, the thought hadn’t gotten much of a chance to enter the centre of his mind. 

Shira nodded towards the letter, gesturing Renzo to come closer. “You should have a look at this. Right here it talks about the methods that could kill someone like Manji.” (Methods that could kill someone like Shira.)

A shadow laid itself over Renzo’s face. He set himself into motion, slowly. “Does that mean he can die after all?”

“The good doctor talks about how to arrange that just right here. Look.”

Renzo took a seat next to Shira, reading silently. The shadows cast over his face gradually turned into something sombre, something forlorn. 

It was an expression Shira couldn’t place. It couldn’t be Renzo started to feel pity about what was to come, right? Or had the gory descriptions in the letter sounded this off putting?

Feeling Shira’s questioning glance on him, Renzo met his gaze. “I was just thinking… if my father would have known any of this, he might still be alive right now.”

Oh. So that’s what he issue had been. Despite the clarification a part of Shira’s mind still felt oddly confused. 

“Or if he had managed to do any of these things by accident. Even not knowing what might have helped, just by doing any of what is standing here, it would have been him still being alive today, not Manji.” The last word had almost been a hiss, a snake spitting venom.

“Regrets won’t help you”, Shira heard himself say, not having planned to say anything out loud but hearing himself talk anyway. 

The next few seconds passing felt very long. Renzo’s eyes widened in surprised hurt. Something akin to betrayal gleamed up behind his eyes, making them flicker. It were those kind of defiant stares that indicated the reason he never voiced protest against Shira was because he had the sense to know better than trying to order him around, not because Renzo was unable to form his own thoughts and conclusions. And it were those kind of glares that made Shira glad fate had somehow arranged for him to get stuck with Renzo. Not because he was related to Araya, not because he had his own reason to hold a grudge against Manji, but for the sake of Renzo being Renzo. 

“I’m not saying it’s wrong to think about how things would have ended up differently. But it won’t change that regret never manages to do anything else than cause you pain. So, try to not bother with it.”

Renzo shrugged his shoulders, avoiding his gaze. “I wish it was that easy.” His voice had sounded quiet. Sad. 

Shira took a deep breath. Why the fuck had he started to spout nonsense like this? Going out of his way to give someone advice… now that was a thing he shouldn’t bother with. The only thing he should care about right now was planning his own personal revenge against Manji. No point wasting time with anything else.

“It’s not easy, right. But obsessing over what you can’t change anymore isn’t making anything easier either. Learn from what you fucked up and do it better the next time.” Shira had no idea why he continued talking. He blamed it on a recent headache that hadn’t fully left yet. 

“I guess”, Renzo agreed, reluctantly. He had stopped fidgeting around, holding Shira’s gaze. His bangs had fallen in front of his eyes, the sight letting an odd urge in Shira arise to brush Renzo’s hair out of his eyes. 

Ignoring the impulse he tightened his grip around the letter instead. (Holding the letter that was explaining to him how to lead Manji to his doom, holding it with Manji’s very own hand, the irony was too beautiful.)


	3. Whiteout

The snow crunched under Renzo’s feet, only dimming out slightly the hard rock of the road. It had gotten evening already but lately everything felt like being stuck in a loop. He suspected it would continue to feel this way until they had reached their destination. Until Manji and Rin were dead, until then there was no point to think about what would come next anyway. (“Next” was vague, a dark and gloomy shadow promising threat, not possibility).

“Renzo?”

Stopping himself from twitching together by surprise Renzo forced himself to remain calm. He hadn’t noticed Shira had come to a halt until he had almost walked into him. “Yes?”

“I know it sounds like a weird question but: Is it very cold right now?”

Looking up at Shira Renzo tried making sense out of the question. “It is… cold enough for snow to fall?”

“That’s what I mean. So, is it only cold or… painfully cold?”

Oh. So that’s what it was about. Renzo felt his confusion leave. “It’s not too bad right now but I guess it would be good if we found a place to make a fire soon. And stuff.”

“I see.” The focus in Shira’s gaze grew stronger and for a moment Renzo had the odd impression his blind eye turned clearer, gradually starting to function again. Functioning so well that it could see him (see him for the first time since they had met). “To tell you the truth, I can’t really feel it anymore if it gets too cold. Or too hot, whatever. The moment pain sets in I’m out of noticing it.”

Well, Renzo had started to guess so since some time. “It’s freezing but not painfully cold. At least so far. For me.”

Shira blinked slowly and when he started talking his voice sounded lagged: “Make yourself useful and see if you see a hut or something of the like around. We’re next to a lake, you usually find those around if the area gets used for fishing.”

“Yes, right. I see what I can find.”

“Hm, what is that supposed to mean, ‘yes, right’?” Despite the question Shira’s tone had not sounded accusing, only at loss. Another indication one of those recurring headaches of his must have set in by now. Lately those left him almost docile, not irritated. Or more, despite Shira acting out when those headaches set in, that behaviour felt performative in an odd way, lacking the sort of sombre malice that had fuelled him on so often, back when they still had been stuck in that prison cell. Back in that prison cell Shira had shown so much outrage about it all, being confined in that cell, continued to get experimented on, constantly waking up with a newly exchanged limb or another. These days that old anger had deflated, making room for an urgency to keep destroying everything getting in his way that appeared to be rooted in a sombre gloom Renzo couldn’t place. 

Feeling more and more at loss by those recent changes he simply blamed it all on Shira’s headaches getting worse. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on those things. “When my father used to sell his masks on festivals, we used to travel around a lot. I mean, we mostly stayed in places around Edo, but sometimes there would be an event in a shrine a bit further away, you know.”

The explanation seemed to have been enough for Shira. He slowly nodded, the movement seeming to bring that vacant dullness back into his left eye. “You would have needed to travel around for that. Of course.”

They found an empty fishing hut at the shore of the lake. Renzo made fire, getting ready what was supposed to be dinner. During this entire time Shira stayed silent, absentminded, the look in his eyes becoming vacant. As if the blindness of his eye was expanding, robbing him of the rest of his vision and then continuing to settle into the rest of his senses. This expanding numbness was fitting with how Shira tended to act lately, growing quiet just to explode into a sudden rage the moment he had decided whoever he was crossing his way deserved to be crushed for one reason or another. 

Lately a lot of people standing in their way ended up crushed. Renzo had thought in depth about it and though it felt like the kind of thing he should feel upset about, but to be honest he couldn’t muster up much more than indifference about it. Caring about some random people he had just met, it seemed to be such an effort these days. Not worth the hassle. 

It didn’t help that it felt like something that was expected of him. While at the same time no one ever seemed to bother with what he wanted. Who had asked Renzo what he had wanted when Manji had killed his father? Why had Rin tried to deceive him, making him find Manji’s chopped off arm in an attempt to make it seem the murderer of his father was dead? Who has asked them to show up out of nowhere to begin with? Everything had been fine when it had been just Renzo and his father, everything had been fine back then. 

“You’re spacing out.”

“Huh? I’m sorry, what?” Renzo raised his head, turning towards the voice. 

Next to him Shira had broken out of his stupor, leaning towards him. The clarity had returned into his gaze, concentration apparent on his face. “What were you worrying about?”

Renzo shrugged his shoulders, searching for words: “I think it’s only fair Manji lost an arm of his. If you keep chopping your limbs off to deceive someone, well, then you can’t complain if those limbs eventually stay lost.”

“You’re thinking about the time when his girl buried that arm of his and showed it to you?”

Renzo only grimaced, the bitter taste of bile spreading through his mouth making it impossible to find words.

“Did he bury his left arm or the right one?”

Now that was a good question. Renzo looked at Shira’s left arm (regardless of the source it belonged to Shira now), thinking. “I really can’t remember. It was just… an arm. Buried in the ground. Just some arm.”

“I see.” Despite the concentration on his face Shira’s voice still sounded lagged. Maybe his headache had lessened but it still seemed to be around. Renzo would have liked to ask but didn’t dare to. Shira could act cranky if you pointed out a weakness of his out of a sudden. It was one of those things making him feel cornered. 

Feeling a numb fog spread through his mind Renzo stared into the fire. 

He noticed a movement next to him before he felt something touch his forehead. “You’re ruining your vision like this”, Shira said, brushing a strand of hair aside that had fallen in front of Renzo’s eyes.

Renzo felt his entire body grow tense, tearing his gaze away from the crackling fire. Shira had used the bone of his arm for the gesture, the tip of the bone still touching Renzo’s cheekbone, the part right under the eye. “I… I wasn’t paying attention.”

“So it seems.”

Renzo didn’t move. He didn’t really mind that bare bone touching him. It certainly was preferable to the arm that was Shira’s but still looked like Manji’s. He was glad that Shira had at least one functioning arm back again (made him less moody) but taking its origin into the equitation… in the end the bone of his injured had, the bone he had managed to bring into a useful form felt so much more natural. It belonged to Shira while the arm was just… compensation. For the pain he had suffered at Manji’s hand. Directly and indirectly. Yes, it simply was a piece of fair compensation. 

Shira was still staring at him, as if he was searching for something. The patience on his face seemed to grow endless, the gleam behind his eyes a fatal resignation. Not knowing what to do Renzo just held his gaze.

“You saw me kill people using that thing. Don’t you think it’s appalling?”, Shira finally asked. 

It was an odd question and Renzo had no energy left to think about what it was supposed to mean. A lot of the time he had no idea what Shira wanted to express exactly anyway; he got cranky when you showed too much concern for him and barely told Renzo more than the mere minimum of what was going through his head to begin with. 

Renzo shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just your arm. I don’t get what’s supposed to be repulsive about it; I mean, it’s just your arm.”

Hearing this Shira’s eyes widened, slightly so. It was impossible to say if what Renzo had said was coming as a surprise to him or as something he had expected to hear. “Just my arm, huh? Well, if it’s just like this then you won’t mind that.” The next moment he laid his arm around Renzo’s waist, pulling him closer. 

Renzo suppressed an annoyed sigh. Was that necessary right now? They had walked all day and he was tired. “What do you want me to do?”

Shira pulled him into his lap using the other arm, removing it an instant later, holding him close with nothing but the bone. “Nothing. Nothing. Just stay like this.” He leaned his forehead against Renzo’s shoulder, the movement feeling heavy and dull. “If there’s nothing wrong with my real arm, then there shouldn’t be any problem.”

So, that’s how it was. At least Renzo didn’t feel that much at loss anymore about what was going on. Hesitating for a moment he decided to ask the question anyway: “Is your head hurting?”

“A bit.”

“Is there something I can do?”

Shira’s voice went sharp: “I just told you you’re supposed to shut up and do nothing!”

Renzo went tense, regretting he had asked after all. 

“Noise makes it worse. That’s why. Voices are the worst, they fucking great against my ear when it’s like that, that’s why”, Shira added, sharpness fading from his voice the longer he was talking. 

Hearing this Renzo only nodded as a sign he had understood. He felt the tension leave his body, slowly, deciding he might as well give in to exhaustion and lean his back towards Shira’s chest. They had walked all day and he was tired. In front of him the fire kept burning, the flame slowly consuming wood and spreading warmth. Sometimes a headache was just a headache.


	4. Red Haze, White Fog

Shira knew it was cold, but it was a sensation he was more aware of due to conclusion instead of really feeling it. It must have been connected with his lost ability to feel pain anymore. The loss affected every part of his ability to feel, robbing him of the ability to experience oppressing heat as well as freezing cold. 

He assumed otherwise lying on the snow would have felt uncomfortable by now. 

It took him a moment to realize that his left eye could see again. He had no idea how long he had watched the snow falling down on the earth until he had noticed that he was, in fact, watching it. 

But then, did anything of this really matter? Shira knew he was dying, so did it really matter how his last few moments would play out? Did it? (Maybe a bit?)

He was aware of the approaching footsteps since a while but hadn’t managed to turn his head towards the sound. Keeping in motion suddenly felt so terribly exhausting. Still, throwing his last bit of strength into the movement, he turned his head. 

So, that’s why the sound of the footsteps had sounded familiar: Renzo, it was Renzo. So he had come back? Not for the first time Shira asked himself why Renzo bothered to stay, not even making as much as an attempt to run away. 

Or was he using the opportunity of the moment to witness Shira dying, getting his triumph like that? Shira had encountered so many people who hadn’t made a secret that they wished him to hurry up and die already, getting confronted with this specific sentiment felt like an odd sort of normality. Taking this into account he genuinely couldn’t place the expression Renzo was giving him. He needed a moment to realize it was sadness. 

To his own surprise Shira got aware that he genuinely felt sorry that he hadn’t managed to kill Manji before the end. Maybe knowing the murderer of his father had been erased would have managed to chase that grief away from Renzo’s face. (Maybe, maybe not. You never could be sure about the effects and outcome of a change until the moment had finally arrived.) 

Yes, maybe not. Shira knew he was dying and he had no idea why his mind insisted to obsess over this issue. The ground below him was freezing but he didn’t feel it, not the painful part of it, not the part that caused the muscles to shiver. It was a detached coldness, sneaking into his body in carefully hidden forms of destruction. 

The sky above him was dark and grey but not oppressively so. In an odd way it looked comforting and beautiful, white snowflakes keeping to fall in front of a soft grey sky. 

Shira’s attention got caught by a shuffling sound. Instantly he followed an impulse, turning his head. It had been Renzo again, tentatively stepping closer. His face still looked so sad. The snow kept falling, silently, eagerly, drenching everything in its vicinity into its freezing softness, the sky, Renzo. Shira hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate beauty since an eternity but out of a sudden he felt unspeakably happy his left eye was able to see again. 

Renzo slowly stepped closer, tentatively and now Shira could see that the sadness on his face had been replaced by pure grief. 

Maybe the same malfunction in his brain that allowed his left eye to see again was bringing back parts of his ability to feel pain after all. A leaden fog was descending on Shira’s lungs, making it hard to breathe, spreading towards his mind and numbing out the part of it that was trying to concentrate and think. 

Shira knew he was dying and he told himself he didn’t care. 

It was an insane thought and in the state his body was in right now he wouldn’t have been able to do it anyway, but the sudden idea inserted itself in his awareness that it would feel kind of nice to take Renzo with him. Maybe it was an impulse born out of routine; since he had lost his hands it had become apparent that he needed to depend on Renzo in the most basic ways, so that the idea of going away without him had started to feel simply scary. Maybe wherever he would go next his lost hands would be waiting for him, or maybe they would not, but Renzo wouldn’t be there either way. All he was certain about was that he would be all alone. (But he had always been alone, so that would be alright.) 

Something really had to be the matter with Shira’s ability to feel pain. The pain in his chest expanded, knocking out the breath of him.

At least Shira wasn’t alone in his misery right now. Manji was suffering just as much as he was. Immortality or none, having lost the girl, Manji would hurt immensely. The thought brought Shira a bit of comfort but not as much as he would have believed it would bring. But maybe Renzo would find solace in it? Manji had lost his beloved girl, that had to be worth something, wouldn’t it? Now the bastard had gotten the kind of suffering he deserved. Shira tried bringing this point across Renzo; maybe they could find the entire potential of comfort this fact would bring together, Shira thought, absentmindedly noticing that his sight was beginning to deteriorate after all: The winter’s sky, the falling snow, Renzo, it all was starting to blur together, leaving him alone in a hazy fog. 

“Shira, I’m sorry.”

Yes, Shira’s sight was starting to get blurry, it would only be fair if they could find some piece of comfort together in the end. At least this, at least this when taking Renzo with him was the one thing out of reach in this moment. (If he would have been able to kill him, Shira would have. But then, if he had been in a state to kill, he probably would also have been in a state to heal together again, which would have made killing Renzo unnecessary. It would have made it unnecessary.) 

“Shira, it’s my fault… I… I made a mistake!”

Shira could hear Renzo’s voice, but he had trouble understanding what he was saying. Concentrating felt so hard out of a sudden. “Hm? Renzo, did you say something?”

“I made a mistake… I wasted time at the pond instead of coming back to you!” Renzo stepped closer, until he was right next to Shira, kneeling down beside him. “It’s my fault.”

Shira didn’t know what to say. He was understanding Renzo’s words by now, but he didn’t manage to make sense out of them. “Renzo? There were three of them and they had a horse. You wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

Renzo didn’t say a word, only letting hear a noise that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

“Or do you mean because I was blind when they struck?”

Renzo shook his head, a heavy shadow falling over his face. His eyes were moving around restlessly, his gaze falling at the sword in Shira’s chest, back to his face, towards where his severed leg was lying on the ground, back to Shira’s right arm. “I wanted Manji to die… but then everyone was trying to get Rin out… telling me to start helping… I don’t know.”

Oh. There had been more people than just Manji trying to get the girl out? Who? The buddy of Habaki’s bitch, that fat cow with the huge tits? Shira felt a leaden weight settle in on his chest. Of course all of them would have tried. “Did they get her out?”

Renzo stayed silent, lowering his gaze and nodding slowly.

Oh. “Did she survive?”

“I don’t know if she’s still alive”, Renzo said, voice shaking. “I made a mistake, why did I stay at the pond? Everyone was talking so much, everyone at once, they just wouldn’t stop talking!”

Dumb kid. Of course Renzo had been supposed to stay at the pond. Witnessing how the murderer of his father died had been the point of his revenge, hadn’t it been? “It’s fine, Renzo. It was good you didn’t try to stop them. They were all stronger than you.” Shira had no idea why he had just tried to comfort Renzo. Maybe his brain had gotten injured in more ways than another, making him more impulsive. (Maybe his inability to kill who he wanted was loosening his tongue.)

Renzo’s head snapped up, his gaze fixating on Shira with a measuring stare. The look was so intense, for a moment Shira was certain he could feel the freezing edges of the merciless cold surrounding them after all. 

“I’m getting your arm back.”

“What?”

Renzo sprang on his feet, his gaze never leaving Shira’s face, still holding his gaze while gesturing at some place further down the road. “They left a sword. Bad luck for them. I’ll get your arm back! We still have time!”

“Renzo?”

“It might be Manji’s arm, technically. But you’ll die without it, so it’s actually you who needs it more! Besides, Rin deceived me with his chopped off arm, so it’s only logical it eventually stays off!”, Renzo said, looking like he had found the most logical conclusion there was to reach. (Sometimes the madness raging strongest laid in calmness and reason.)

Shira still didn’t understand half of it. Words began to be so hard to understand again. The only thing Shira felt was the terrible realization dawning upon him: Renzo was still standing and about to leave for good. “You’re going away?” Shira had known it. Be it Renzo or whoever, in the end everyone left once they had gotten what they had wanted from him. Be it his strength, his ability to fight, whatever. That’s why this entire time he had tried to ensure Renzo would see no other option but to remain by his side, wouldn’t even get the idea to leave him alone. But to no success, apparently. 

Hearing these words Renzo looked conflicted. “Only for a moment. To get your arm back. I’ll hurry, I’m back as soon as I can.” Looking more undecided than ever he hesitated for what couldn’t have been more than a second but felt like aeons. Then Renzo leaned down again, brushing his hand through Shira’s hair. “Hang in there a bit longer. Just until I’m back, then you’ll be fine again!” With this he already sprang to his feet again, running away, only leaving the fading sounds of his footsteps behind. 

Shira felt the cold spreading through him, starting to reach his bones and what felt to be the deepest core of his being. Trying to concentrate and think about what had just happened felt more exhausting and difficult than only mere seconds ago. Renzo wanted to get the arm back? But that spiky-haired bastard had taken it and left with it. Even with a sword (some random sword he had just picked up from the road!) Renzo would have no chance. That kid wasn’t cut out for sword fighting to begin with. Not that Shira held that against him. If anything he preferred Renzo’s honesty towards his own limitations compared to the pig-headed stubbornness that would lead some people towards ignorance when pursuing a goal. (Was Manji’s girl still calling herself a swordfighter? If she did, why was she still clinging to Manji’s strength then?)

Shira kept staring at the winter sky above him, feeling more of that merciless cold settle into his body, since the first time in an eternity able to feel the painful side of low temperatures again. What had Renzo been thinking, running away like that? It wasn’t only the spiky-haired bastard, those two dumb bitches belonging to Habaki were each dangerous enough on their own. Maybe not for Shira, buzzing around him like some irritating fly, but for Renzo? That kid wasn’t cut out for fighting (not yet). 

Idiotic kid. Getting suicidal in the last few moments. 

Something honestly had to be the matter with Shira’s eye; his sight was becoming so blurry again. 

Somewhere, far in the distance Shira could hear a sound. Not a voice, not quite, but something close enough to it, some unidentified noise an animal had made. After that the world around him remained silent, even graver so than before, leaving him with nothing but the cold and the snow that was still piling up. Time around him seemed to freeze, leaving him in a disoriented state where he no longer could estimate how fast the time around him was passing. 

The next time he heard a sound again he first assumed it was that unidentified animal again. But only the next moment the sound turned into something clearer, something familiar. The sound of someone running. 

“Shira!”

It was odd, in the first moment he couldn’t make a connection between the approaching steps and the voice calling out his name. (The voice could have belonged to anyone, could have come from any direction whatsoever.) The cold around him was so terrible and his mind felt slow. 

“Are you still alive? Shira!”

“Renzo?” The sound leaving his lips had barely been above a whisper and it had been enough to make him realize once again how terrible the exhaustion spreading through his body was becoming.

Someone was throwing themselves on the ground next to him, grabbing his shoulder. “Look, I’ve brought your arm back! Everything is going to be fine now!”

The words he was hearing still made no sense. 

Shira tried focusing his eye, trying to pull away from the abyss trying to snatch him away, now really looking at the figure next to him. He needed a moment to comprehend that the person beside him was really Renzo.

“Oh god, you can still move! Can you see me? Yes? Look, your arm is back! Hang in there, just a bit longer, the blood worms are back now, now you can heal again! Okay?”

Was that really his Renzo? Shira’s gaze had gotten stuck at Renzo’s bottom lip, smeared with blood, swollen. 

Renzo’s eyes gleamed up, their manic light a strong contrast to his hair hanging messily into his face. “Your arm is already starting to attach itself back, see? Once that’s taken care of, I’ll get your leg and all the rest”, he said, nodding towards where Shira’s chopped off leg was lying on the road. “But I think it’s better to first get the arm back so your wounds can heal.”

Shira still had problems concentrating. But he felt the exhausting weakness getting driven out of his body, so he guessed that was progress. He let his eyes wander over Renzo’s body, taking in the damage. There were spots on his arms and face already beginning to bruise and scratches on his neck. The kind of scratches fingernails would leave. The blood smeared all over his hands and clothes, it was hard to tell if it might have been his own or not. 

Holding Shira’s arm in place Renzo kept talking, his eyes restlessly wandering around. “Your wounds are starting to close. I’ll wait a bit longer and then I get the rest. Okay?”

“…okay.”

“I think it’s good now.” Renzo stood up, picking up the torn limbs lying on the ground. Shira couldn’t help but feel relieved once Renzo walked back to his side again. “Now your legs and all the rest.”

“Yes.”

Renzo’s eyes were still wide open, the echo of an earlier horror resonating through them. He shoved a strand of his hair away that had fallen in front of his eyes and now Shira could see that there were cuts on his arm as well. “It’s soon going to be fine again.”

“Renzo?”

“The blood worms are back and working again! You’re going to be fine!”

“…what happened when you were gone?” What had they done to his Renzo?

Renzo froze, fastening the hold of his hand on Shira’s arm. “I’ve got your arm back. It’s fine.”

“Did you get hurt? Are you alright?” All that blood, Shira couldn’t see if there was any serious damage hidden underneath. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” His voice breaking in the middle of the sentence indicated that Renzo was anything but. 

Feeling the strength into his body return Shira leaned on his elbow, carefully. His limbs were getting reattached, but the entire damage would still need a few moments to get healed fully. It was just so much. 

Renzo’s hand was still clinging to Shira’s arm. Far above the elbow, almost on his shoulder, where the flesh being touched was really and actually his. “They thought I wouldn’t do it. Until the end. Until I had done it.” He lowered his head, causing his hair to fall into his face again. 

Sitting up further Shira used the bone of his right arm to pull the sword laying on the ground closer. His left hand (with it being reattached it was now his arm enough) he laid on Renzo’s knee, the gesture appearing safer than trying to search words together while his mind was still feeling so foggy. Shouldn’t the blood worms hurry up and fix the damage in his brain now they were back? His head felt strange today. 

Continuing in a monotone voice Renzo held still, his hand never lessening the force it was grabbing onto Shira’s arm. “Everyone was talking so much again. Nothing they said made sense. Nothing made sense. Neither of them is any better than you are, maybe Rin aside. Because she hasn’t killed anyone herself, directly.”

Shira raised his right arm, using his bare bones to shove Renzo’s hair out of his face, trying to get a better look at the damage. It wasn’t only his lip that was swollen, there was a cut above his eyebrow as well. “You got hurt.”

“Nothing serious”, Renzo said, shaking his head. He let his gaze wander into the distance, staring down the road he had just come back from. “Nothing they said made sense. The all like Manji and hate you, that’s what it comes down to. People make excuses for the ones they like and try laying the blame on the people they hate, that’s all there is to it.”

Not knowing what to say Shira just nodded in agreement. The upset state Renzo was in, it would just be best to let him talk, letting him voice out whatever was on his mind. Questions could come later. As soon as they were finally away from this shitty road out in the open. Shira looked at his legs, trying to move them slightly to see how far the healing process had come so far. Things were healing fine enough but it would still need a bit of a moment. 

Renzo was still staring down the road, not meeting Shira’s eyes but not turning his face away from his either. “You know what? Maybe there were a lot of people who hated my father as well, maybe even for a good reason. But I’m still sad he’s no longer with me. Not only because he was the only one left after my mother had died, not only because of that.”

“If he was a good father to you, then it’s fine to miss him.”

Renzo snapped his head around fully, now facing Shira directly, staring into his eyes.

“My father used to be an asshole to me, so I wouldn’t know. But if someone treats you right, it has to be normal to miss them. Even if they’re a father.” There really had to be something wrong with Shira’s head. He had no idea why he had just said that. It was the most personal thing he had ever told Renzo about himself, by far. No longer feeling able to bear the weight of Renzo’s stare Shira started moving his limbs again, testing how far the regeneration had come. Just to have something to distract himself with (maybe it would distract Renzo), even though he forced himself to continue staring into Renzo’s eyes. 

Grief set itself on Renzo’s face again, eroding the wide-eyed manic stare. When he continued talking his voice kept shaking. “I think I killed someone.”

“Who? Manji? The girl?” 

Renzo shook his head, his other hand now clasping at Shira as well, to whatever part of his kimono happened to be nearest. “Some guy who was with them, I didn’t know him.” A pained sound escaped his throat, for some odd reason reminding Shira on the other noise he had just heard before. The one coming from some animal he hadn’t been able to identify. “They thought I wouldn’t do it, I could feel it. They all thought if they just keep telling me what a terrible person you are and how much Rin and Manji are suffering, that this would be enough to make me stop. But I didn’t want to stop! I was so angry!”

Devoid of words Shira only nodded.

“I didn’t want to stop. I could feel they didn’t take anything I had to say seriously, and that made me more not wanting to stop.”

“But you got the arm back”, Shira said, accentuating his point by tightening the grip of his hand (it was his hand now) on Renzo’s knee. 

Renzo let hear another noise, half sob half groan. “I cut off the arm and then everything happened really fast. I’m not really sure what happened either, I was just set getting your arm back. And then that guy was in my way, so I tried stopping him with the sword. I don’t know either.” That sound again, half sob, half groan. 

“Breathe. Take a deep breath.” Shira used his bare bones to tousle Renzo’s hair, falling back on the old habit as an attempt to calm him down. Maybe it had become a routine in the meanwhile, he didn’t know. What he knew though was the he needed to get Renzo calm again. His wounds were almost healed by now and they needed to get moving again. They couldn’t stay here.

Maybe his words were having a bit of an effect. Renzo still looked upset but took a deep breath, staring down the road again before continuing to talk: “There was so much blood, I think I might have killed him. I hurt the other girl as well, the one who jumped into the water to get Rin out.” His eyes snapped back at Shira, widening in upset again. “But she tried making me stop as well! So, what was I supposed to do? I needed to get the arm!”

“It’s kill or be killed”, Shira confirmed, the weight of that stare making him talk again before he had known what he had wanted to say. 

“I remembered how it felt killing those dogs with the kitchen knife. And the cat, remember when I brought home the cat? A knife is not a sword but it has a blade as well. Killing the dogs was the only guiding point I had.”

“As long as it worked. As long as things work out, that’s fine.” No use getting upset over erasing what was standing in your way. It was a fundamental truth but for some reason Renzo still seemed to struggle with it. And Shira had no idea how to make him see reason already. At least the manic glare in his eyes had vanished by now. 

Because for now they couldn’t afford to dwell on any of this for much longer. Shira stood up, ignoring the hazy fog still cast over his mind, deciding his wounds had healed up enough by now. Though there probably would still room left for some things to change: His left eye had fully regenerated by now but his right one was still seeing as well. Shouldn’t it have gone blind again by now, joining his loss of pain? Well, it probably would only be a matter of time for now. Shira looked at Renzo. “For now we have to keep going.”

Renzo nodded, a restless gleam still shining behind his eyes but not seeming surprised by those words. 

Shira picked up the sword laying on the ground, the one Renzo had come back with. The one he had used to get the arm back. Things would go back to normal. Shira’s left eye would lose its sight again and it would be him who would wield the sword again, returning to be the destroying force of their connection. 

Renzo watched him silently, an odd sort of routine returning into his posture, despite his face still looking as if he was out a bit. As if he wasn’t quite in his mind since he had come back from retrieving the arm. But that lost piece of his self would return eventually as well, just as if it was only a matter of time blindness would descend on Shira’s left eye once again. After all true change did only seldom happen and if it did it even more rarely allowed circumstances to develop into something better instead of making matters worse.


	5. Fragments

Renzo took a hesitant step closer, his hand absentmindedly gripping into the fabric of his clothes. The next moment he instantly regretted the movement, feeling a sharp pain shoot through his fingers.

Still leaning over the now lifeless figure lying on the ground, Shira raised his head. If his attention had been caught by Renzo setting himself into motion or his unfiltered reaction to the pain, Renzo could not say. Either way Shira held his gaze, a short nod signalising it was okay to step closer.

Renzo did so, slowly, warily, gaze fixed on the figure laying on the ground.

Noticing his caution, a slow realization appeared on Shira's face, chasing away the tension of battle. “It's fine. He's dead now.”

“Is he? Are you sure he's not immortal either?”, Renzo asked, only while speaking out the thought realizing he only had been halfway joking. The nebulous sensation of piercing through a chest returned, the distant memory of attempting to kill Manji on the day he had invaded the home of Renzo and his father. Sometimes you fatally wounded people just to see them return. (Killing a lost pet crossing your way for the sake of getting dinner was much more forward that way. Animals tended to stay dead.)

Shira shook his head, gesturing with the tip of his sword at the cut throat of the figure. “Not a single bloodworm about to heal the damage of this fucker.”

Unable to tear his gaze away Renzo only nodded. His eyes were taking in the damage; the torn flesh, the blood pooled on the freezing ground, leaving vivid stains on the dirt and the tan grass, seeping into parts of the ground where the snow had since long gotten stained. So that had been the leader of Itto Ryu then.

Shira sneered, for a moment looking undecided if he wanted to keep the sword in his hand or handing it over to Renzo already. In the end he kept it. “Bastard put up quite the fight.”

“You were stronger”, Renzo simply stated. It was the truth.

Shira shrugged his shoulders, lowering his gaze, looking at the bloody spot on his chest that had gotten injured during battle but already had been closed again thanks to the the bloodworms. “Not especially, no. It’s only that the bastard got too cocky in the end.” Apathetically he shrugged his shoulders. “The last one we were supposed to deal with is now done with anyway.” Shira was still holding on that sword, not letting it go.

Renzo tightened his grip into the fabric of his clothes, feeling a fresh pang of pain shoot through his fingers. He concentrated on the fresh pain while starting to speak: “My father used to be in the Itto Ryu as well. Rin told me.”

“Did he use to be?” Neither Shira's voice nor face betrayed any surprise getting confronted with the statement.

“Would you have gone after him? If he still was alive?” The pain in Renzo's hand had now numbed out nearly all other sensation, leaving nothing but a burning ache.

“The things they keep telling you. No, from the information I had Araya had quit being part of the organization since years. Going after him would have been too much of a hassle. Frankly, other Itto Ryu were much easier available.”

“I see”, Renzo heard himself say, lowering his gaze. He saw indeed. Shira may have spoken the truth right now, or he may have not. Either way it didn't matter. It had been Manji killing Renzo's dad, not Shira. And Manji only had done so because Rin had been trying to pursue revenge, getting the entire mess started. This knowledge left little room for any lingering “maybe” or “might have been”.

Renzo didn't know why he had asked to begin with. It must have been curiosity winning over. Curiosity or a faint urge to willingly stand into destruction’s path, despite knowing better. Lately that urge sometimes stopped being that faint and won in strength, pointing out trying to stay sensible in an environment that punished the level headed and rewarded the impulsive would do more harm in the long run. (Or was that yet another veil cast over the truth?)

His musings were interrupted by the sword being held right in front of his nose. “Hold on that for me. We're finished. Let's get out of here, before we attract any unneeded attention.”

Half on autopilot, half listening to Shira's instructions, Renzo took hold of the sword. Too hastily so, gripping on it let the pain in his fingers flare up again, making him wince before he could suppress the sound or the discomfort showing up on his face.

Furrowing his eyebrows Shira fixed his gaze on Renzo's hand, looking like he wanted to say something only to remain silent. Some subdued gleam in his left eye let the certainty in Renzo grow that the blindness was still staying away from it. Despite its discoloured appearance that seemed to signal the opposite, the few shades the left eye appeared lighter than the right one, impossible to ignore just because the difference was hard to notice at first glance. If the lighting was weak you wouldn’t notice at all until you really made an effort to look. 

They were a good way further down the road when Shira slowed his steps down, looking at Renzo: “How are your hands doing?”

So he had noticed after all. Of course he had; trying to hide things from him never worked out to begin with. Renzo came to a halt himself, noticing in a far corner of his mind how the frozen road was crunching under his feet, as if snow and ice were making a conscious effort to get noticed. “Just a bit bruised. I guess.”

“Show me”, Shira said. His voice had sounded calm, a contrast to the blank bones of his arm demandingly stretched out, the common gesture indicating that “no” was not an option. (But despite of this his voice had still sounded patient. With a bit of make-believe Renzo could hear scraps of concern in it.)

Shoving up the sword on his shoulder to get his hands free, Renzo held them towards Shira.

The expression in Shira's eyes got focused, taking a second to fully oversee the scope of the damage. “Bruises. And some scratches as well.”

“I think it is nothing too serious.”

“Probably. From the look of it though: Don't freak out if one of your fingernails falls off anytime soon.” Shira's gaze got stuck at the raw and bloody flesh under Renzo's thumbnail, a critical shadow spreading through his face. ”Frankly, it's a wonder that one hasn't come off yet.”

The weight of the sword on Renzo's shoulder felt light and heavy at the same time. “I think that happened when he tried to choke me. The one with the spiky hair.”

Shira's gaze flicked back at Renzo's face, but Reno couldn't bring it over himself to meet his eyes, looking at the ground instead. Without having planned to he heard himself continue talking: “I don't know why I didn't immediately use the sword on him, despite it having been in my hand. Feeling his hands on my throat, I just panicked. I don’t know.”

“That's instinct for you.”

“Hm. Instinct?”

“Instinct. Why was he choking you though? I thought that idiot was wearing a sword on him too.” Now Renzo had been certain there had been the tiniest hint of concern in Shira's voice.

“I think he no longer had it? It was right after I had cut off the arm for you. Everything went so messy and loud, I don't know.”

“You got his hands off you before anything serious happened. The rest is detail.”

Not knowing what to say Renzo just shrugged his shoulders. What he just had said was the truth, he barely held any clear recollection of what had happened in the shed. The main thing he remembered were a lot of different voices putting pressure on him and then things getting loud once the people talking were realizing he was refusing to do what they were demanding of him. 

“Seriously, I mean it.” Shira's bare bones came closer to Renzo's face, slowly, not quite touching it. “If someone tries to kill you then you need to be faster. Otherwise you're the one ending up dead.”

“Yes. Okay.”

“Your nail is probably going to fall off. But it’s going to heal again.”

The echo of the sentiment resonated through Renzo’s mind, muting out gradually the world around him. The icy air, the frozen ground, the gleaming brightness of the snow appearing radiant even with dusk having set in since a while: It all appeared distant, almost artificial. Making a conscious effort to keep his expression blank, Renzo turned his head, looking down the road they had just come from. He could still see the spot the remains of the leader of Itto Ryu was lying, but the body itself was not to be seen anymore, hidden by shrubberies growing in the ditch right next to the road. 

Almost against his own will his restless gaze got stuck at his own hands again, immediately feeling the nausea set in being confronted with the sight. Half of his fingernails were bloodied, the flesh underneath bruised and still wearing traces of blood. He could feel the phantom sensation of those hands grabbing his throat, cutting off the air. Renzo had just tried to rip them away again, the force of the movement making his fingernails bend into some odd directions. Shira had been right, how you ended up surviving was nothing but a detail; it had been nothing but pure instinct trying to keep Renzo alive. 

Not using a sword you happened to have with you. How stupid. 

“I’m still not really sure what happened. All I could think of was getting your arm back and getting out again”, Renzo heard himself say. Out of nowhere the old memory of Manji leaning over the lifeless form of his father appeared in front of his inner eyes, the realization that something really grave was going on (though the details had yet refused forming into a coherent explanation), the apologetic gleam in his father’s eyes before he had died only a moment later. Back then Renzo had arrived too late, unable to do anything. Unable to help, forced to watch the destruction taking place in front of him without being able to do anything. It had been a feeling beyond being helpless, beyond being powerless, the icy awareness that sometimes circumstances fell into place and couldn’t care less about your sensibilities. 

He could still feel Shira’s gaze on him. Renzo kept staring down the road, halfway expecting someone to turn up. Maybe someone who was belonging to that Anotsu person, some friend of him, some comrade. It seemed everyone Renzo crossed paths with these days had a myriad of people ready to come to their defence in case something happened to them. A myriad of people who cared. 

Renzo turned his head, looking up at Shira. “I think I might have killed that spikey haired guy after all. Or maybe I only injured him, just like I injured the other girl. Either way, I don’t care about that. They started it with taking away your arm when you needed it the most.” 

Shira held his stare, expression on his face unreadable. In the growing darkness of early dusk his eyes had turned dark, hiding the fact his left eye had a brighter shade of brown than the one that had never been blinded (except for the time it had been ripped out and then had grown back again. How many times could you tear someone to shreds until they would stop recovering?) When he started talking his voice sounded oddly patient: “I know you had no time, with trying to get out of there as fast as possible and everything: But the next time you’re not sure if someone you want to stay out of your way really is dead or not, cut off their head. And don’t let people who saw your face get away. Never, under no circumstances. Got that?”

Next time, huh? “Okay, alright. In case it ever comes that far again.”

“That’s what I just meant. Just in case. So that you know what to do then.”

“Alright, okay. Cut off head and don’t let anyone get away who saw my face.” The advice sounded logical, in a cold and unspectacularly detached way. If his father had never let anyone get away who had seen his face during a critical moment, would he still be with Renzo right now? He couldn’t help but wonder. 

The empty expression on Shira’s face vanished, making room for something quiet but unrestricted. He looked back down the road, towards the place Anotsu’s remains laid badly hidden in a ditch, letting hear an absentminded sigh. “We can’t stay here. Let’s keep walking.”

“Yes, alright.”

Dusk was expanding, drenching the world in a cool blue light that seemed to be strengthened in its brightness by the thin layer of snow that was still covering the world around them. The frozen ground under Renzo’s feet felt hard and sharp, resonating in a destructive harmony with the sharp pangs of pain that had started to shoot through his fingers again. 

Renzo found that he couldn’t keep silent anymore: “He was among the people they wanted you to kill for them, wasn’t he? They didn’t only want you to take care of Manji and Rin, right?” 

Shira didn’t look surprised by the question, keeping his eyes fixed on the road in front of them, keeping the steady pace of his steps. “Yes, and now that’s dealt with as well, I hope Habaki is going to be generous and keep his promise. He wanted to see Anotsu dead since ages, seeing that thorn from his side gone, he certainly won’t have any reason to complain.”

“I see. Well, if he will see no reason to complain, that’s good to hear. I guess.”

Hearing this Shira didn’t say anything else, only making an agreeing noise. 

“I guess”, Renzo repeated, no longer bothering to hide a sigh. “Is that Habaki person reliable with his promises though?” These days the only thing people around him seemed to be reliable with was showing up with unpleasant surprises, so Renzo couldn’t help but to feel very sceptical about the entire matter. 

Apparently he wasn’t alone with his doubts. Shira’s voice started to sound cautious: “Reliable enough when his higher-ups aren’t interfering. We’ll see.”

“Okay. Alright.”

Shira was still keeping his gaze fixed on the road in front of them. And yet his steps were beginning to slow down, coming to a halt completely. He turned his head, looking up at the sky. The weak light around them was still bright enough to highlight the thoughtful expression on his face.

Coming to a halt himself Renzo looked up at the sky himself. He expected to see something of significance: An incoming cloud heavy with fresh snow, maybe even something special like a shooting star. But there was nothing. Only a cloudless clear sky with a few weak stars keeping the moon some company. 

Otherwise there was nothing. 

“Winter’s sky. Look, it’s still bright blue over there.”

“Huh, what?” Renzo rendered himself silent, directing a questioning glance at Shira instead. He hadn’t expected him to say something to begin with and his words had just made absolutely no sense right now. 

Still looking upwards Shira continued: “I haven’t given any attention to the sky since an eternity. Had no time to.” Slowly he lowered his gaze, a growing shadow setting over his eyes, hiding their expression out of sight. “It’s nothing. I just got distracted for a moment. Let’s keep going.”

Renzo nodded, making sure to keep up with Shira’s pace, walking right next to him. It was better not to stay too far away in case he needed his sword again after all. Or something. 

Shira glanced west, shortly, towards the spot where the sky still showed a bright blue, despite of his attention getting distracted not slowing down his steps. “Renzo?”

“Yes?”

“You’re still the replacement for my hands. The fact I have this back doesn’t change that”, Shira said, emphasizing his point by holding up the hand of his right arm.

The pain was still pulsating through Renzo’s hands, sharp and clear, but for some reason it didn’t feel as distracting as before. It felt like a buzzing noise he was aware of but also like a noise that wasn’t really part of him, didn’t really concern him. 

“Yes, I see”, Renzo simply said, feeling like a leaden weight had fallen away from his throat. Maybe it was a sign the bruises and scratches on his neck had already begun to heal.

Shira nodded, silently glancing at Renzo, not taking his eyes off him. Maybe it was due to the odd glimmer of the snow around them, but his left eye had started to look as if it had gained a green tint. An addition to the previous discoloration, appearing like a resonance of the greenish blue still left in the western sky. Renzo decided that he liked the idea, realizing the next moment that he too had lacked the opportunity to look up at the sky since an eternity. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve wanted to write this fic since back in the day when the manga still had been ongoing. And now I’ve written it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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